by Nikki Turner
“Nah, I don’t have nothing to say to you, Wilson,” spoke Mike B. Cool, calm, and collected.
Now it was Wilson’s turn to smile. If he had a dollar for every time he had heard Mike B say that to him over the years, he’d probably be a wealthy man. However, something in his gut told him that before he left that room, Mike B would in fact have something to say to him.
“So I guess you want to talk to your attorney now, huh?” asked Wilson, beating Mike B to the punch, knowing that those would be the next words he spoke.
“Do I need one?” Mike B asked nonchalantly.
That was the cue that Detective Wilson had been waiting for. “This time I think you do, kiddo,” replied Detective Wilson, slapping the manila folder he held in his hand on the table.
This was also nothing new to Mike B either. He had gone through these procedures a thousand times, but this time, without even looking in that folder, he had a bad feeling about the contents. He began to reflect back on what Detective Wilson said about today, ‘not being his lucky day.’ As Detective Wilson’s words circled in his head, Mike B slid the folder close to his person and opened its cover. As he looked at the black and white copied photos, he wondered no more because there, just as plain as day, laid Gee-Live’s lifeless body in the blood stained snow where he and Jeff had left him.
Detective Wilson observed Mike B’s reaction to the photos. He was a highly trained expert in reading body language, facial expressions, and the reading of the eyes, but as usual, when he presented Mike B with portfolios of what he believed to be his handy work, Mike B maintained his composure and remained motionless. But had he been an expert in internal body language, he would have known that Mike B felt like he had just been slapped in the face with a bag of bricks at the sight of the photos. Mike B knew that Detective Wilson was watching him closely with this hawk eyes, which made him extra careful not to break a sweat. He closed the folder and slid it back toward Wilson, then looked up at the detective who was already staring at him.
For a moment, there was a brief silence, with the exception of the wall clock hands ticking away at each second. “Why you showin’ me this?” asked Mike B, breaking the silence, knowing that he had to ask that question like he always did or else Detective Wilson would suspect something.
Little did he know, no matter how much he tried to play the role, he could not convince Detective Wilson otherwise this time.
“You don’t know why?” asked Detective Wilson, impressed by Mike B’s coolness.
“Nah,” replied Mike B plainly.
“So that’s your story and you’re sticking to it, huh?”
“You ain’t got nothing on me man. This is some bullshit right here,” answered Mike B, showing a little sign of emotions.
“Is that so,” Detective Wilson shot back dryly, picking up on Mike B’s mood change.
“Yeah, I know so, ’cause I got an alibi.”
“An alibi? You don’t say,” Detective Wilson replied sarcastically. “Who is this alibi?”
“Jeffrey Smith. I was at his crib all night and this morning until I got arrested,” said Mike B confidently, not aware of the fact that he had just made a fatal mistake with his choice of words. Instantly, Detective Wilson picked up on Mike B’s error and intended to capitalize off of the situation.
“Why would you tell me of your specific whereabouts for yesterday evening and this morning Money? I never made mention of the time of Gee’s death. You do know who Gee is, don’t you?” asked Detective Wilson, ending his statement with an obvious question.
The fact that Mike B was so quick to give his specific whereabouts during the time of the victim’s death convinced Wilson that he was on to something.
By now, little beads of sweat started to formulate and trickle down from underneath Mike B’s arms onto his sides as the palms of his hands began to perspire as well. At the time, he hadn’t realize what he said, or rather how it came out. He cursed himself for his carelessness, but it was too late, he couldn’t take what he had said back, the damage had already been done. Now his only hope was to salvage what was left.
“Yo, Wilson, man, come on with the games, yo. You know I know who that cat is or was in them flicks, and you know I ain’t have nothing to do with that dude’s death either,” stated Mike B boldly in an attempt to convince Detective Wilson that he had no involvement in what he was being accused of. Judging by the smirk on the detective’s face, he was not doing a good job of it.
“How do I know that?” asked Detective Wilson, changing his smirk into a puzzling expression.
“’Cause you know.”
“Excuse me, sir,” a voice came from behind Detective Wilson causing Mike B’s words to be interrupted.
Both Mike B and Detective Wilson turned their attention to the direction of the door, each recognizing the feminine voice that intervened in the cat and mouse game the two men were just playing. It was Detective Lisa Robinson, Detective Wilson’s partner, and someone who Mike B was infatuated with. Despite the fact that she was an officer of the law, he knew that his infatuation for her was like playing with fire. Sooner or later, the ending result would be him getting burned being in the line of work that he was in and she was in.
“What is it, Lisa?” asked Wilson, already having an idea why she had come to the interrogation room.
Mike B too wanted to know what would cause Detective Robinson to interrupt the interrogation knowing that Wilson didn’t like to be disturbed when he was working on a suspect. Normally when Mike B paid visits to the police station, which was not often, or whenever he saw Detective Robinson out on the streets, he would flirt with her or ask her out when he caught her by herself. After all, she was by far one of the prettiest light-skinned sisters he had ever come across, not only on the police force, but in the entire population. She had qualities that Mike B appreciated in a woman: Independence, intelligence, and class which only heightened his attraction to her. But today was not any normal day for him and he was not in the mood to be doing any flirting or anything for that matter with the female detective. His only concern as far as her was why was she there.
“Sir, we just received the results of the DNA back on that,” was all she said.
“All right, I’ll be right there,” replied Detective Wilson.
“Okay,” she replied back.
Just as she was about to close the door, she shot Mike B a blank stare and rolled her eyes at him, and then she was gone as the door closed. Mike B paid the look no mind. Just like a chick, he thought. His mind was more focused on her words. He had watched enough crime stories and cop shows to know what the letters, DNA, meant. The question was, DNA to what? Picking up on Mike B’s curiosity, Detective Wilson decided to fish a little more before he concluded his questioning, by allowing Mike B one last courtesy chance to speak his mind, if he had something to say.
“So, Money, you say you have an alibi? You don’t know nothing, and you don’t have anything to say, right? Correct me if I’m wrong,” stated the detective, requiting Mike B’s words back to him.
“That’s right, I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’ so I can’t have nothin’ to say. I told you I was wit’ my man all last night and this mornin’, check it out. His number is two two—.”
“Oh, we know his number and we’re, ‘checking it out,’ as you say,” said Wilson, mocking Mike B.
Detective Wilson had had enough of Mike B’s theatrics. He had given him more than enough chances to make the situation light on himself, but Mike B chose to play the tough role, so because of that, he had blown his opportunity. In a way, he felt a little sorry for Mike B because he honestly believed that he, like so many other young African American males, was bred to be the way that he was. A mere product of his environment, but the fact of the matter was, he broke the law and there were penalties behind that. Detective Wilson reflected back on the many times he felt strongly that Mike B was guilty of a shooting or other killings but just couldn’t prove it. Now here it was, and maj
or pieces of a puzzle had been dropped into his lap. He intended to put them all together so that justice could be served.
Against his better judgment, he decided to give Mike B an idea of what it was he was exactly up against before he left the room. “Listen kiddo. I respect the way you’re choosing to handle this situation. I gotta tell you that the average guy in your shoes would be shitting bricks and sweating bullets, so I give you credit for that. But based on what we have on you, when you go before a judge, he’s not going to respect you invoking your rights to remain silent or you trying to be this standup guy. Now I gave you several chances to come clean and give your side of the story because I know how these street situations can be. You stuck to your guns for whatever reason, so now I want you to hear something before I walk up out of here,” said Detective Wilson, pulling a miniature hand recorder out of his pocket.
“Yes, I just saw two men running in Greenbrook Park with big dark colored coats on coming from by the pond. I noticed them get into a green Audi SUV and pull off. I went back by the pond and from a distance, it looked like someone was laying back there in the snow.”
Detective Wilson stopped the tape. He figured he had let Mike B hear more than what he was privileged to, but nevertheless, he wanted him to know that his reign of terror was officially coming to an end. He didn’t even bother to look at Mike B. Instead he put the recorder back into his pocket, picked up the folder that contained the deceased victim’s photos, and began walking toward the door.
Mike B continued to maintain his external facade, but on the inside he was totally distraught. He could not believe what his ears had just heard, but he had to believe it. Like the tape recorder it played in, it was real. It was impossible for him to make out who the muffled voice belonged to, whether male or female, but there was no mistaking the words which the anonymous caller spoke. Many different thoughts raced through his mind, but the one that he pondered on the most was the thought of being seen. He was almost positive that the area in which the crime scene was committed was secure, but it was apparent that the, almost part of him being positive had become a detrimental one. He watched Detective Wilson walk toward the door, as mind-boggling thoughts spin cycled inside his head.
Right before Detective Wilson walked out of the room, he turned back around to face Mike B while standing in the doorway. “Just so you know, we’re in the process of bringing your boy Jeff in for questioning as well. You might want to think about changing your statement,” he suggested, closing the door behind him.
Mike B was not fazed by Detective Wilson’s ending remarks. He was 100 percent sure that like himself, Jeff would not cooperate with the authorities no matter what. The two of them had been crime partners for so long, that he could vouch for him. He was absolutely right, there was no way Jeff would cooperate with Detective Wilson or any other detective for that matter, but not for any reason Mike B could have imagined.
The opening of the interrogation room door broke his chain of thought and drew his attention to his left. A tall, thin, African American, well-dressed male in a navy blue two piece entered.
“Detective Wilson?”
He walked over and extended his hand to Detective Wilson. Detective Wilson kindly accepted. “I’m Federal Agent Lewis.”
The words, Federal Agent, caused Mike B’s stomach to do somersaults.
The feds? he questioned.
He was no genius, but he knew enough about his city to know that when the feds came to town, it was something serious.
“What can I do you for?” Detective Wilson asked.
Chapter Sixteen
“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” advised Lenore, stepping out of the E350 Benz.
Before Denise could even utter a word, Lenore had already slammed the car door shut and headed toward their intended destination. Denise just watched as butterflies fluttered annoyingly inside of her stomach. She began to feel nauseated, wanting nothing more than for this whole ordeal to be over with, and knew that after this last stop they would be able to put all of this behind them. This was why she was so anxious for Lenore to take care of the affair and get back so they could be on their way. As uncomfortable as the matter was for her, Denise was put in a position and forced to make a decision. One that she’d hoped she would be able to live with for the rest of her life.
Lenore rang the doorbell again for the third time, wondering why no one had answered the door. Especially when she saw that white Denali sitting on the distinguishing twenty-three-inch chrome Giovannis parked outside in the parking lot. Just as she was about to ring the bell for a fourth time, becoming irate and impatient, she heard the locks on the door being released.
“Yo, what’s up? What’re you doin’ here?” she was asked as the door opened.
“I came to see you.” Lenore walked up on him and planted a kiss on lips.
“Hmm!” was the sound he made as he embraced the kiss.
He slid his tongue into her slightly opened mouth, then spun her around into his condo and closed the door behind them. “Why you ain’t call before you came?” he asked, breaking their lip lock.
“’Cause I wanted to surprise you,” she seductively answered, rubbing the bulge in his Sean John jeans, causing his semi-erect manhood to stiffen even more.
“Yo, you know you took a chance coming here unannounced right? What if dawg dabbled back or something, how the fuck we gonna explain this shit?” he lectured.
“Don’t worry, I got that covered. I already knew where he was at before I came here, calm down,” replied Lenore.
“All right, I feel you, I’m just sayin’ though, it wouldn’t be a good look on my part. Son wouldn’t understand this right here,” he animated with a hand gesture to indicate them dealing with each other.
Jeff remembered when he first introduced Lenore to his man Mike B after she had just moved from L.A. three months prior. A beautiful three months he recalled. When Denise asked him could a friend of hers come and stay with them for a little while, he was hesitant and reluctant because he didn’t know what type of female Lenore was. He didn’t want someone coming into his home corrupting his wifey. But he agreed to allow her to stay with them only on the strength of the love that he had for Denise, not to mention the overtime persuasion she put in with her lips, tongue, and throat. There was no way that he could resist her fellatio.
When he drove Denise to the airport to pick Lenore up and Denise walked out of the terminal with her, his only thought was, Damn.
There was no doubt that his baby Denise was a quarter piece all around the board, from head to toe, but Lenore was definitely a fifty-cent piece. As the two girls were approaching his car, he examined Lenore. Even her walk is mean like she has on a perfect pair of Seven jeans with that cat-walk strut to the car, he thought. She reminded him of young version of Pam Grier in her Foxy Brown years in the face, but had the body of Delicious. Her look was more exotic, with her caramel complexion and chinky eyes that made her appear to look as if she were stepping off of the plane from the Fiji Islands or some other Caribbean and not from Los Angeles.
Jeff knew that someone as gorgeous as Lenore had to be trouble, especially if she didn’t have a man. He became more skeptical, despite the fact that he was instantly attracted to her. When they were introduced, she sounded just as she looked. He was careful not to stare too long at her out of fear of Denise becoming jealous. He knew how women were, but he had no idea particularly how Denise and Lenore could be. Not until they threw him a surprise birthday party that following month, at the Radisson in Piscataway.
That was a night that he would never forget. It was the first night that he had ever experienced a ménage à trois, with him being the meat while Lenore and Denise played the bread to complete the human sandwich. That night Jeff was told about Denise’s and Lenore’s past dealings and surprisingly Jeff was cool with it, especially since he was privileged to be a part of the sexual escapade. After all, he was now living out every man’s fantasy. That was until Mike B me
t Lenore at Nell’s in Manhattan while out with Denise. Instantly, the two hit it off and began seeing each other. At first, Jeff wondered if he should fill Mike B in on his own behind closed doors activity but then thought better of it.
There was no need to expose his wifey and her friend as being freaky and bisexual. Beside in his book, three was company, four was a crowd and he was not trying to share is wifey with his man, that was out of the question. Initially the threesomes continued, but the more Lenore saw Mike B, the less Denise and Jeff did, in the bedroom that is. It should not have surprised Jeff when Lenore said she was moving in with Mike B but he was.
He could not believe that Mike B had basically wifed Lenore up. He was under the false impression that Lenore was just merely a convenient piece for Mike B, let him tell it whenever he made mention to Mike B about her. He didn’t want to seem like a hater, but Mike B was his man and he could not sit back and let him go through with his intent without at least knowing what he was against. He was positive Mike B had no clue, because if he did, he would have never fallen for a chick that Jeff had slept with, knowing the two of them were like brothers. That was against the rules.
Jeff had gotten upset with Denise and approached her, convinced that she had known of the extent and depths of Lenore’s and Mike B’s dealings. When confronted, Denise admitted to having knowledge, and before the night had ended, she had also deterred Jeff from what she called, interfering with people’s happiness. That was years ago, and since then, because he allowed his little head to overpower his big one, around every birthday or whenever they felt the urge, Jeff, Denise, and Lenore still got together and joined in their triangle of sin without Mike B having any inclination.
“Yo, you spoke to Denise? I been trying to reach her all morning at the other crib and on her cell phone but she ain’t pickin’ up,” said Jeff.
